Shadow: The Origin Of A Legend

Chapter 28

"You sure you want 'em? I mean, they're stale and all that," the baker asks, looking puzzled. In her hand she holds a rather large brown box boasting "Biodegradable" on each side.

"I always say what I mean." I reply coolly, looking her in the eye. "Besides, you're about to throw them away anyhow, right?"

"Well, yeah, but they're kinda gross." She seems really concerned for me. The dirt I smudged on my hair to hide my stripes is what's truly bothering her--fortunately, I really fit the starving-child look, since I myself have been living off scraps for most of my life since I left Robotnik's 'care.'

"Hmph," I lower my head, closing my eyes and smirking. "Doesn't matter to me. I take what I can get. As the proverb goes, one man's trash...!" I trail off, looking back up at her.

"Yeah, I get the feeling," she hands me the box, and I delicately slide it from her hands. Leaning forward, she gives me a sad look. "Listen, times are hard for just about everyone nowadays. If you ever need a job, just come back here, okay?" Stepping back into the doorway, she grabs onto the door. "Every Friday, we throw out the old stock. You need food, you come here on Fridays. It'll be on the house, since it's, y'know, stale."

"Thanks," I reply, holding the box close to me. "I might bring a friend around here some time--unless that's asking too much, of course. I--"

"Oh, that's not an issue!" She interrupts happily. "I'd be glad to help you out. Just don't tell the whole block--we don't have enough stock for that." Chuckling, she shuts the door, calling over her shoulder, "You take care now, honey!"

What a nice woman, I think, and a genuine smile tugs at the edge of my lips. Perhaps this city isn't rotten after all. Turning around, I wipe some of the mud off of my hair, disgusted by it. Wish I'd had something else, but I needed a disguise pronto--my stripes are my defining feature here. Hugging the box, I walk back the way I came, thinking silently. Alright, so I have some food, but now what? Biting my lip, I look up at the sky. Clouds are oozing across the city, dark and ominous, obscuring the stars from my view. It looks like a storm is brewing; that's worrisome. I hope I can make it back before it breaks. Picking up my pace, I round the corner and come face to face with a dumpster. Startled, I hop back, then move around it. Right, I forgot that was there. Oops.

An acrid scent wafts up from it, catching my attention. It's sharp, unfamiliar--an antiseptic smell. Pausing, I survey the area, and then I see it. There's a partially-broken bottle nearby, cracked at the neck, and it smells of chemicals. I trot over to it, picking it up. "Is this something I could use to treat Scourge's wounds?" I ponder aloud. Sniffing it, I gag, holding it away from me. Ugh, no, it's got something else in it, mixed with the antiseptic. Dropping the bottle again, I wipe my hand on my leg. I don't even want to think of where that bottle's been. Sighing, I continue walking. I suppose I'll just have to hope that he has something to clean his cuts with.

Within a few moments, I stand back in front of Scourge's place. Gingerly, I walk up to the door, trying to be silent. What should I say to him? If I act like I've gone out of my way to help him, he'll be offended--he's too proud for his own good, honestly, but I can understand how he feels. It's better to be self-reliant than to count on others, in my opinion; loyalty makes one weak, because they let others cover for one's faults instead of overcoming them on one's own. I chew my lip, stepping slowly up to the door. I guess I'll just tell him I got them so that he wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow to buy food. I shift the box's weight to my right arm, lifting my left hand to knock on the door.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Hold on a minute!" Scourge's rough voice barks, and I wait patiently. The sound of locks rattling ensues, and he opens the door. "Shadz? What are you doin' here again? And why are you all dirty?" He looks down. "What's with the box?"